Wheeling Gull Isle Some kind of change, some kind of spinning away.

i know we already have one but eyeballs. if you'd rather have somebody else just lmk! <3

Dinah could never truly stay away from the ocean.
Even with what happened with the strange man who bore a crucifix, the fear was quick to subside and she found herself on the shores again, doing the same thing she always did: search for treasures.
In three days, she will be two months old. Her legs were longer now, a body under metamorphosis; gangly, awkward, wolven. Cinnamon guard-hairs were starting to replace the downy baby fuzz. The sapphire of her eyes grew more intense, alight with the spirit of the sea, and there were batty little ears atop her head she had yet to grow into. Had someone placed her atop a scale, she would probably be nearing twenty whole pounds!
A little girl not so little anymore. But even still, her childlike spirit had not gone. Her love of foraging least of all! And there was one person she had yet to give a gift!

Ducking beneath a log that hangs over the shore, she digs around in the ruddy sand in search of a prize suitable enough. Perhaps a stone or a shell or a plant, something she felt represented the woman she hunted for.
A malformed silver pebble. Nah, no way.
A large cut of driftwood in the process of fossilizing. Too big!
And then, as if a heavenly spotlight had appeared in front of her, she sees it: a long black feather, possibly from a raven or a hawk. It shimmers with the sand that half-buries it, damp with saltwater and glistening in the afternoon summer sun.
It's perfect.

Grasping it in her little jaws, she shakes away the grains of sand and goes in search of her recipient. Shockingly, she was not all that hard to find. She was already on the seabank, poised and graceful and still, watching as the waves roll in and out. Proudly, Dinah sets it between her front paws, a dopey wag to her little tail. It's for you, Gramma!